Chapter Text
The archery range has always been Clint's favourite spot. He's nested in the rafters plenty of times when he can't sleep, and sometimes even in a lean-to of targets. In one corner is a full sized fridge crammed with all his favourite drinks and snacks, enough to last him for several days at a time if he lived there. Jarvis doesn't let anyone in without permission, not even Natasha. Pietro is the only exception to that rule.
An exception that he thoroughly abuses. Clint groans in frustration when his arrow disappears for the third time and lowers his bow. “Hey, c'mon, brat,” he yells. “I need to actually hit the target.”
His arrows appear in the center of the target and Pietro stands next to it, grinning. “Oh, come on, old man. You hit the bulls-eye every time!”
“One more time never hurt,” Clint protests. He points his arrow toward his boyfriend, scowling as he nocks it. “Let me shoot, you jerk.”
“Last night you said you loved me, Barton. Make up your mind.” Pietro grins at him in a way that clearly shows he knows what his boyfriend is thinking, and Clint just rolls his eyes.
“Stay out of the way,” the archer insists. He pauses for half a moment, glaring at the man who is giving him an innocent look. When Clint shoots, his arrow doesn't disappear. It sprouts from the center of Pietro's chest, and Clint's heart stutters to a stop before he realizes his boyfriend is holding it rather than having been shot. “Jesus, Pietro!”
“Can I help you?” the Sokovian asks, innocently.
“You brat!”
“And you love it.” Pietro flicks his tongue out to lick his bottom lip and, yeah, okay, Clint won't even try to deny that. He twirls the arrow between his fingertips and saunters toward Clint, teasing his boyfriend's arm with the feathering of the arrow. “Thought you never missed a shot, old man.”
“Not unless my asshole boyfriend is in the way.”
“Still love me?”
“More than ever.” Clint doesn't bother trying to figure out if there's a flicker of insecurity in his lover's voice. That will always be the answer. Pietro could do so much better, but Clint is the one he loves, and the archer has always tried to do everything he could to deserve it. He tugs Pietro closer by the collar of his shirt and kisses him, unashamed and loving.
“Agent Barton, Mr Maximoff, I'm sorry to interrupt, but there is a team meeting being held in a few minutes on one of the common floors. Sir has requested Mr Maximoff's presence in the workshop before the meeting for a brief discussion of some new tech.” Jarvis' voice is apologetic, but Clint whines in annoyance anyway. He gives Pietro one last kiss before pulling away, hanging his bow on the wall before he grabs Pietro's hand in his and tugs him toward the elevator.
“You go have fun with Tony and I'll be waiting with the others, okay?”
“Yeah,” Pietro says, squeezing his hand before darting off to the stairwell. Clint shakes his head at his boyfriend's enthusiasm and goes for the elevator instead. He leans against one of the couches at the back, waiting for his boyfriend to finish with Tony and join them. Tony is apparently excused from the meeting due to the fact that the genius had already firmly made his mind up and was already behind on some projects.
Clint sees the blur coming just in time to stick his foot out, and as hopes, Pietro falls for it. Or over it, rather. The speedster sprawls on the floor, wind knocked out of him with a grunt. Steve raises an eyebrow from where he'd been talking at the front of the room, pausing to give them time to sort things out.
“You didn't see that coming?” Clint asks, voice full of faux concern.
“Fuck you, Barton,” Pietro grumbles.
“Not in public, brat, geez. I never knew you were an exhibitionist.”
“I'm not,” the Sokovian protests.
“Get off the floor, please,” Steve says, his voice full of long-suffering and patience.
Rather than replying, Pietro brings Clint down next to him with a well-placed leg roll. Clint hits the ground with a thud, groaning as he lets his head fall back against the tile. Pietro rolls over and lays on top of him, making himself quite comfortable on a human-sized pillow since he has the opportunity. He nuzzles his boyfriend's neck, murmuring a quite phrase to him that makes Clint blush.
“That works,” Steve says calmly, and he goes back to the discussion for which the team meeting had been called. Clint whines about it, but most of the team is ignoring them. Natasha and Wanda are fully capable of dividing their attention anyway. Pietro squeaks as Clint rolls over, trapping the younger man beneath him, but his protest is cut off when Clint kisses him.
“Boys, please,” Steve calls. “We can move into a board room and I'll have Thor sit between you.” Since that is a threat very likely to be carried out, the two pout but settle down. At the moment, they're sprawled on the common room floor, and Bruce is kind enough to throw a blanket at them. Pietro makes a pleased noise and pulls it over toward them, although Clint snatches it with a tut.
Sit up, Clint signs. Pietro rolls his eyes but does so, leaning back against Clint's chest. The archer pulls the blanket around his shoulders, letting his boyfriend tug on the corners of the blankets to keep him close. Once he hooks his chin over his shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist, Clint is actually quite happy to be in a meeting. For once.
Until Pietro starts rocking back against him. It's subtle at first, and they're near the back of the room anyway, so nobody besides Natasha and Wanda notice. The younger Maximoff blushes and looks away, but Natasha is smirking subtly at them. And for all the teasing that he did earlier... well, Clint's the one who has a bit of an exhibitionist streak. He stays right where he is, face growing steadily redder as he starts getting hard. Pietro squirms and wriggles, apparently innocent of the way he's pressing back against Clint's crotch.
“We're going to adjourn for fifteen minutes and then meet in the board room,” Steve says. Pietro is blushing faintly, but that's nothing compared to Clint's colour. The two of them disappear, Clint hissing in his boyfriend's ear and Pietro looking thoroughly unashamed. He licks his bottom lip and murmurs something Sokovian in Clint's ear that makes him pick up the pace. Everyone else on the team rolls their eyes, almost collectively, and gravitate into the kitchen area in search of snacks.
The two of them make it to the board room within the allotted time, Clint with a bit of a smirk and Pietro faintly blushing. Both of them have messy hair and wrinkled shirts, and it's obvious what they were up to. But given the way Pietro's holding onto Clint's hand almost shyly, and the way that Clint is smiling back at him, nobody really complains much.